


Lazy Days

by Anoke



Series: Modern Witcher Fic [2]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Animal Abuse, Animal Death, Drug Use, Equine Phantoms, Eskel (The Witcher) - Freeform, Gen, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia is Still a Witcher, Hallucinogens, He's only mentioned though, Lambert (The Witcher)/Keira Metz (Mentioned), M/M, Marijuana, Modern AU, Mushrooms, Past Drug Use, Recreational Drug Use, Underage Drug Use, also they watch The Princess Bride, hey did you want to know what the Signs do?, please let me know if that's not right, pot brownies, so I'm calling it gen, that sounds like a lot of drug use but I promise it's about the same as in the games, the Jaskier/Geralt is just a crush for now, the relationships are mentioned but they are in no way the point of this, they're in here - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-18
Updated: 2020-04-18
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:27:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23715919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anoke/pseuds/Anoke
Summary: Geralt and Jaskier get stoned.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Lambert, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Lambert
Series: Modern Witcher Fic [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1652446
Comments: 20
Kudos: 109





	Lazy Days

**Author's Note:**

> Right! So this takes place a couple years after The More Things Change. I may go back and fill in a little more, but we're in loosely-connected oneshot territory now, baby.

Geralt had been browsing Jaskier's fridge—much better stocked after he'd gotten the Oxenfurt scholarship and moved to start college—when he spotted what was clearly a container of weed butter.

Jaskier'd skidded over and started babbling about responsible use, but Geralt cut him off.

"Jaskier, I have lived a _ridiculously_ long time. I have, for one reason or another, done _so_ many drugs. Pot isn't going to shock me."

"When you say 'so many drugs'..." Jaskier prompted.

"Hmm. Well there was the one time I took a brew with greytop mushrooms and I either thought my horse was talking to me or, well, my horse was talking to me." He paused, and added thoughtfully, "I'm actually pretty sure it was the second one, because I cannot imagine myself, no matter how high I was, forgiving a man for beating his horse to death."

"Okay, you _have_ to explain that one to me, because I am not following point a to b," Jaskier said. "Also, wanna make some pot brownies?"

Geralt considered the question; he wouldn't mind getting stoned today, but he wasn't sure he should be encouraging the kid to do so.

On the other hand, Jaskier already _had_ the weed butter, it wasn't as if he was going to never use it if Geralt turned him down.

"Sure, why not," he decided. "We're making a second pan without anything in it though. And some grilled cheese."

"I take it you get hungry?" Jaskier asked, starting to pull out some pans.

"On that strain I do," Geralt said, nodding to the butter.

Jaskier paused for a moment. "How do you— your sense of smell is nuts, you know that?"

Geralt hummed and looked back into Jaskier's fridge. He'd been shopping recently; he had the essentials for brownies but also a loaf of bread, four kinds of cheese, pickles, mushrooms, onion, tomatoes, some raspberry jam, and bacon, which pretty well covered a wide range of possible sandwich options. He traded brownie supplies for a large pan with Jaskier, which he set on the stovetop, turning on the burner and starting the oven pre-heating as he did so.

"Need the normal butter?" Jaskier asked from where he was mixing wet and dry ingredients in two separate bowls.

Geralt grunted and shook his head, laying out slices of bacon in his pan.

"Ooh, good idea," Jaskier said as he caught a glimpse, turning on another burner and putting down a small saucepan with both butters in it.

Geralt moved past him to wash his hands off and put the remaining bacon back in the fridge.

"So; talking horse?" Jaskier asked, doing some mixing.

"Right. I was in Toussaint. There was a hermit woman, she was convinced she was being haunted. Said she could only see the specter under the effects of greytop mushrooms," Geralt started, slicing up the rest of his ingredients.

Jaskier looked like he wasn't quite sure what to say about that; he turned back to the stove and gave the butter a stir before adding in some chocolate pieces.

"I know, I was thinking it too. But I _did_ have a look around, completely sober, and there was definitely some evidence of a haunting: ton of dead moths near all the entryways, slight blood traces on the woman's pillow leading out the window and away," Geralt said, and added the mushrooms to his pan.

“So you took the shrooms,” Jaskier concluded, continuing to stir.

“Yep,” Geralt said. “Then I passed the fuck out. Woke up and Roach was talking to me. Said she was thinking of trying White Honey on me, I’d been out so long, though she admitted it would be hard to do with hooves.”

Jaskier stopped and turned to look at Geralt.

“Are you serious?” he asked. “I genuinely can’t tell.”

“Completely serious,” Geralt assured him.

"You're so, well. Deadpan, most of the time, I have a hard time telling when you're fucking with me," Jaskier continued, giving his mixture one last swirl and moving it off the burner.

Geralt felt his lips twitch in amusement as he added sliced onion to the pan. "Can't imagine what you're talking about."

"Yeah yeah, very funny, but as you were saying, your horse—you named your car after your horse?—was talking to you."

"All my transportation is named Roach. Makes it easier. And yes, she was talking to me. We did a little additional investigating, and Roach noticed and pointed out the specter. It was an umbra; they're invisible to most creatures unaided." Geralt turned the bacon and stirred the mushrooms and onion, not bothering to wince as the fat spattered.

"Okay, but if the only way you can see them is under the effects of hallucinogens—" Jaskier said, carrying his saucepan of melted chocolate and weed butter over to the mixing bowls.

"They can still hurt people when they're unseen," Geralt reminded him.

"Right, right," Jaskier said, "I suppose that's pretty compelling."

Geralt huffed out a very quiet laugh. "There are more things on heaven and earth…" he murmured.

"Than are dreamt of in your philosophy," Jaskier finished, mixing the saucepan contents into the slightly larger bowl. "I know, Geralt, I'm not oblivious to the classics."

"You may not be, but I have lived the essence of that statement," Geralt commented. "After a certain point, you learn to roll with it. You have a plate for this?"

Jaskier passed him a large plate, which he scooped the bacon and veggies onto. Geralt started constructing sandwiches in the pan while Jaskier mixed the contents of his bowls.

“So. Umbra,” Jaskier said, pouring the mix into a pan.

“Right. So, the umbra was in the shape of a horse, and took off running. I mounted Roach and took after it. We ribbed each other a bit on riding techniques while we were chasing, but given we’d won basically every race we’d entered at that point, I know I wasn’t serious, and I doubt she was either,” Geralt said.

“It’s still kinda weird hearing you talk about this like your horse was sapient? Like, it’s making me feel kinda freaked out. What if every animal is sapient, et cetera,” Jaskier commented as he gently nudged Geralt away from the range and slid the pan into the oven, then leaned over the stovetop to set the timer.

Geralt made a face. “I mean, I _could_ have been imagining some of the exact specifics? But I still think I wasn’t hallucinating the whole thing—let me get to it.”

“Of course,” Jaskier said, dumping the dishes into the sink and starting the faucet.

“We followed the umbra to a graveyard. Got attacked by a couple spectral beings, put them down, checked the gravestones. There was a relatively recent one for a knight, Marcello Clerici. He was the umbra, appeared in humanoid form and started talking. He’d known the hermit since they were children, and his guilt was all mixed up with that; he’d wanted to build a better life for the two of them, but she’d not found a comfortable place until her hermitage. He’d beaten a horse to death in front of her after losing a tourney, which was the main…” Geralt gestured vaguely. “ _Tie_ keeping him there. He’d been trying to beg absolution from her.”

Jaskier hummed, but with a distinct frown on his face.

“I know. A man who’d harm an animal like that—” Geralt’s mouth twisted into a snarl just thinking about it.

Geralt though he heard Jaskier laugh, very quietly, all in huffed air. He turned his head from his pan to look at Jaskier head-on, but he was facing away from Geralt now, washing measuring cups and utensils.

Geralt eyed the kid for a long moment, then decided he didn’t want to ask. He turned back to the stove and flipped the four sandwiches he’d crammed into the pan.

"Okay, but then what?" Jaskier asked after Geralt had finished. He'd gotten to work on scrubbing the bowls and saucepan.

"Well, I for one told him it wasn't his friend he should be begging for forgiveness," Geralt said, unable to stop from growling a little.

"Entirely sensible," Jaskier said, finishing the saucepan.

"So I asked Roach if she thought she could forgive him," Geralt said. "And… she did. I would not have done the same. Even now it still makes my blood boil."

Jaskier turned off the faucet and took up a drying cloth. "That _is_ pretty compelling, I have to say. Have to see what you're like while high first, of course," he continued, tone teasing.

Geralt gave him an unimpressed look and removed the first four sandwiches, stacking them on the plate he'd been using. He started assembling more while Jaskier started mixing another batch without the weed butter.

“The forgiveness the end of it?” Jaskier asked after a moment.

“Yeah,” Geralt said. “The knight moved on to wherever it is that spirits go, and I let the hermit know the umbra was gone. She’d offered to repay me, in potatoes, but I wasn’t so hard-up as to take them.”

Jaskier brushed up against Geralt, just barely, while using the stove burner. 

“Very considerate of you,” Jaskier said quietly.

There wasn’t really anything to say to that, so Geralt didn’t.

Jaskier, never a fan of silence, chattered about his class schedule, classmates, and professors. Geralt let it wash over him, offering a sympathetic noise when prompted.

Geralt had a good dozen grilled cheese prepared by the time the pot brownies were cooked and cooled. Jaskier pried them out of the pan, gave it a quick scrub, and added the new mix before cutting up the adulterated batch.

Geralt, utterly aware of his own metabolism and drug resistance, plowed through three brownies during Jaskier's one.

Jaskier paused and gave him a concerned look. "Geralt, uh—"

Geralt quirked his lips at the kid. "Tolerance. Promise I have a good idea of what I can deal with, and how quickly."

“If you’re absolutely sure,” Jaskier said, a little worriedly, taking a second brownie.

“Promise,” Geralt said, picking up another as well.

In the end, Jaskier had one and a half of the pot brownies, and Geralt had six and a half. There was one lonely remainder sitting in the pan.

“Leave it,” Jaskier said. “I’m sure I’ll have it some other evening.”

Jaskier carefully wrapped the remainder in plastic and wrote WEED!! across the top in permanent marker before stowing it in the fridge. The second batch was cooking, with the oven timer set, and the grilled cheese were resting on the stovetop waiting for the oven to be free to warm them up.

“So, got a movie preference?” Jaskier asked, once they’d gotten everything cleaned up and relocated to the living room.

Geralt shrugged, leaning back against Jaskier’s futon-couch. Why the hell he’d bothered dragging that all the way from his previous apartment instead of getting a new one for a few crowns, Geralt couldn’t guess. It wasn’t as if Oxenfurt wasn’t full of college students trading furniture for cheap.

“I am absolutely taking advantage of this then,” Jaskier said, pulling out a case. 

Geralt caught a glimpse of the title and said “Wait. Wait, is that…”

Jaskier presented it with a flourish “A New Hope, premiere movie about Witchers? Indeed it is.”

Geralt groaned in agony and dropped his head back. 

“Please don’t,” he said. “ _Please_ don’t, I hate that movie.”

“Wait, really?” Jaskier asked. “Why?”

Geralt tipped his head up a bit and looked at the kid. He appeared to be genuinely confused.

“You’ve known me for how long already?”

Jaskier blinked. “I mean. It’s inaccurate, definitely, but isn’t it kinda fun all the same?”

“It’s really not,” Geralt said. “Not the replacement of sterility with chastity, not the arbitrary creation of ‘good’ and ‘evil’ factions, and definitely not the implication that we were somehow _special_ from birth and everything else could just be picked up in a couple of months.”

“Is there anything that you did like?” Jaskier asked, putting the movie down.

Geralt frowned. “If it hadn’t been _about_ Witchers, it would have been pretty good. As it is, I mostly just wonder how they got Axii right and literally nothing else.”

“Axii?” Jaskier asked, confused again.

“The— I think they call it a mind trick or something?” Geralt gave the little hand gesture they’d used.

“Wait, _wait_ ,” Jaskier said, with a look of awe. “You can do _magic_?”

“Not like you’re thinking,” Geralt said. “Has this really never come up before?”

“It has not,” Jaskier said, “I would absolutely remember. How is it not like I’m thinking?”

Geralt thought over their acquaintance in his head and realized the kid was correct.

“Geralt?”

He huffed, a little annoyed. “It’s not magic like mages can do. We have a very limited number of useful…”

“Spells?” Jaskier suggested.

Geralt grunted. “We call them signs; mutations are what allow us to power them, and we make hand gestures to use them.”

“And one of them, called Axii, lets you control someone’s mind,” Jaskier said, looking way too excited.

“It’s _not_ that powerful,” Geralt tried not to snap. “I could get you to tell me something, or make you give me something, or do a simple task, or get you to follow me, but it’s not true mind-control and I can’t do things like implant suggestions or trigger phrases. It also wears off, pretty rapidly.”

“Can you show me?” the kid asked, still bright and curious.

“Not right now,” Geralt said, and, before Jaskier’s face could fall too hard, asked “Do you have a candle?”

“I’m in college, of course I have a candle,” Jaskier said, and walked off to probably-his-bedroom, returning a couple of moments later with a big lavender-scented monstrosity in a glass jar. Geralt had to wrinkle his nose at it—it _stank_.

“Oh stop making that face, not all of us have super-senses,” Jaskier said when he noticed. “I have provided a candle, you didn’t specify unscented.”

“Put it down,” Geralt said.

Jaskier gave him a slightly skeptical look and set the jar down on the floor.

Geralt lit the wicks with a tiny burst of Igni and felt very justified when Jaskier jumped.

“Igni,” he explained to Jaskier. “Can put it out, too, up to about the size of a campfire. Can burn most things, if I want it to. Good way to dispose of monster corpses. Or plague bodies, sometimes.”

Jaskier’s mouth formed into a little ‘o’.

“That is _so cool_ ,” he said. “Can you use it in a fight?”

“Hmm? Yeah. Probably what they meant it for, but it’s handy for all the other things, too.”

“Can you put it out? So I can watch?”

Geralt obliged him, snuffing and lighting the candle a few more times.

“What other… Signs, you said? What are the other ones, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Not gonna show you ‘em all right now,” Geralt cautioned, and Jaskier nodded several times. “Right. You just saw Igni, told you about Axii. That leaves Yrden, Quen, and Aard.

“Yrden is, essentially, a trap. It can slow things down or stop them in a defined area, or if you refine it, deal damage to something there. It can also ‘trap’ things in our world; it’ll keep wraiths from becoming insubstantial while they’re in its range.

“Quen is a shield. It can be passive or active, depending on how you refine it. If you do it right you can get the passive shield to release a blast of kinetic force when something breaks it, or even get the shield to reflect attacks.

“Aard’s the simplest. Just a blast of kinetic force. Throws things back, tends to stun.”

“Like _Fus Ro Dah_?” Jaskier asked, eyes sparkling.

Geralt debated the possible pros and cons of denying all knowledge of Skyrim.

“It’s not nearly as powerful,” he grumbled a moment later.

“But it’s similar?” Jaskier asked, starting to actually grin now.

“I’m not letting you film it,” Geralt said.

“Awwwww!” Jaskier pouted. “Really? I can’t convince you?”

Geralt shook his head and very carefully did not allow his expression to change. Jaskier did _not_ need to know about that bet Lambert had won.

Jaskier sighed dramatically and flopped onto the couch. “Fine. What do _you_ want to do then?”

“I don’t actually object to a movie. Just not those ones,” Geralt said.

“Fine, fine,” Jaskier said, and gestured at his bookcase of DVDs. “Pick one, you big grump.”

Geralt browsed. Musicals, Miyazaki, kung-fu flicks, a couple of superhero movies, a couple from the adventure archaeologist genre, documentaries, both history and nature… He actually liked probably more than half of these.

Then, of course, it caught his eye.

_Fuck._

He pulled it out anyway, because what was life if not pain.

He _saw_ Jaskier open his mouth, but he also saw him think better of it.

He slid the disc into Jaskier’s console, and settled in to the sound of coughing and a chiptune version of “Take Me Out To The Ball Game”.

Jaskier, impressively, managed to suppress himself until the timer for the regular brownies went off. Unfortunately, he only managed to suppress himself until the timer for the regular brownies went off.

“So. Buttercup, eh?” Jaskier said, a smirk a few degrees off from standard on his face.

“I liked this movie _long_ before I met you,” Geralt growled, sliding the grilled cheese into the oven.

“Which bits?” Jaskier asked, smirking.

“ _All of it_ ,” Geralt snarled. It was completely true.

“Uh-huh?” Jaskier said, still with that godsdamned smirk.

“I saved your sorry ass _well_ before you told me your name,” Geralt retorted, unusually sore.

“True enough; but perhaps it was _destiny_!”Jaskier said with a flourish.

“Destiny can go _fuck itself_ ,” Geralt growled. Even with all it had ostensibly given him, he refused to accept some greater force showing him around like a game piece on a board.

Jaskier’s grin faded, at least until they got back to the film.

Geralt recovered the grilled cheese another couple minutes in and was well into his first (with tomato) when his mouth started up again.

“He’s not wrong,” he said.

“Ah?” Jaskier asked, appearing genuinely confused.

“‘S different, fighting one man or a group,” Geralt said.

“I want to ask for details, but I have a suspicion you’re not going to indulge me while this is playing,” Jaskier said.

Geralt grunted and turned his attention back to the screen, reaching for another grilled cheese as he did so. 

Jaskier liked the movie quite as much as he did, though, and they had a good time quietly commenting on bits of it. Geralt got to lend some additional veracity to never getting involved in a land war in Zerrikania, and Jaskier had read the book too, so they went back and forth on book versus movie.

Geralt started his third sandwich (with pickles, shared with Jaskier) right around Ultimate Suffering, and rather regretted it. He always underestimated how much that line hurt.

“Geralt?” Jaskier asked.

He grunted. “It’s nothing.”

But Jaskier scooted a little closer to grab the grilled cheese half Geralt was holding, and wound up staying there, their knees just touching. Well. It wasn’t as if he’d tried for a hug. He could stay.

He was absolutely feeling the pot by the end of the movie, and going by the state of Jaskier's pupils, he was too.

"So," Jaskier chirped. "Apart from making you hungry, what's pot do for you?"

 _Makes me unusually sentimental_ , Geralt thought but managed, with effort, to not say.

"I want a nap," he said instead, which wasn't totally a lie, and Jaskier _whined_.

"I should have _known_ you'd have completely boring highs," he pouted. "If you're going to be like that, then _I_ am going to take advantage of the burst of inspiration and compose something."

Geralt rolled his eyes and groaned, but it was all for show. He didn't hate Jaskier's music, which was more than he could say for a lot of the top 40 list.

As he'd hoped, Jaskier just made a face at him, collected his guitar and notebook, and sat down near the guitar stand and started composing.

Geralt let himself slide down off the edge of the couch and shuffled a bit so that he and the plate of grilled cheese were within reaching distance of Jaskier. 

If that happened to also put himself within reach of Jaskier, well. That was just an unintended consequence.

Situated about as comfortably as he was prepared to be, he closed his eyes and let Jaskier's playing and muttering lull him halfway into meditation.

An indeterminate amount of time later, Geralt's phone screen lit up.

"Fuck," he said. 

No wonder he'd been so willing to get stoned; he and Lambert were supposed to have a video call today. Despite having forgotten about it consciously, he'd remembered he wasn't going to be doing anything too dangerous.

"Whazzat?" Jaskier asked, stopping playing.

"My…" Geralt thought about how to answer that question, waving a hand. "Brother, I guess."

He couldn't not pick up, though. Fuck. He accepted the call.

“Hey Lambert,” he said as the camera came on.

“Hey man,” Lambert said, then peered more closely at the screen. "Are you on something right now?"

"Yes," Geralt said. No point trying to hide it, Lambert would notice. "Just pot."

Jaskier suddenly lay down with his head next to Geralt's. 

"Oh!" Jaskier chirped upon seeing the screen. "Kind of brother as in another Witcher, that makes sense."

Lambert blinked in probably-surprise. “Oh. Is that the kid?”

Jaskier gasped in faux outrage. “ _Kid_? Excuse _you_ , I am an _adult_. Living on my own and paying all my bills and everything.”

“You’re a twenty-something in college, you’re a kid,” Geralt said.

“ _Betrayal!_ ” Jaskier gasped and put an arm dramatically over his face.

Geralt and Lambert both snorted.

“I see you’ve been taking it easy though, Geralt,” Lambert said. “Hanging out in a college town.”

“Oh come off it, Lambert. I spent like a _week_ checking the sewers for the town council.”

Jaskier made an interested noise from behind his arm. “Find anything?”

Geralt glanced to the side. “Nothing to write home about.”

“Then why are you bitching about it?” Lambert asked gleefully.

“Because it’s still the _sewers_ ,” Geralt said, exaggeratedly put-out. He fumbled around and claimed his sandwich, to finish it off.

Lambert made a questioning noise.

“Grilled cheese,” Geralt said. “Brie and raspberry jam and bacon.”

“Ooh, _fancy_ ,” Lambert said, a little mockingly, but Geralt knew for a fact he went to _brunch_ with Keira whenever they were in the same place for a day, he was one to talk.

“So, you know each other, obviously, but like. What’s the story?” Jaskier piped in, peering up at Lambert.

“ _Well_ ,” Lambert began, a glint in his eye.

“He’s my bratty kid brother,” Geralt said loudly before Lambert could continue. It wasn't _completely_ accurate, but it was the closest to it.

“Oh fuck you!” Lambert said.

“We’re both from the school of the Wolf,” Geralt continued. “N’ he’s like. How much younger are you than us, Lambert?”

“Us?” Jaskier interrupted before Lambert could start.

“Oh. Uh. Me’n Eskel. We’re same age, same training group. Known each other since we were ‘bout six? Lambert was… after we were on the Path, so he’s—”

“ _Maybe_ a decade,” Lambert interjected. “You were still brats yourself, by most standards, when I had the unfortunate experience of meeting you idiots.”

“You say that,” Geralt said, “But I’m pretty sure you love us anyways.”

Lambert made a rude noise but did _not_ deny it. Points for him.

“So you have… two brothers? Or,” Jaskier waved a hand languidly. “Two sort-of brothers?”

“Yeah,” Geralt said, struck by sudden melancholy. “We’re what’s left.”

Jaskier made a mournful sound in sympathy and started stroking Geralt’s hair. He should maybe stop the kid, but it felt good.

Movement on the screen caught Geralt’s eye.

"Are you taking screenshots?" Geralt asked, suspicious. Lambert's grip on his phone had shifted.

"Of course I'm taking screenshots, how else am I going to share this moment with Eskel or Keira?"

"Lambert, if you share those I," Geralt had to stop to think of a threat. "I _won't_ have sex with you next time we meet up."

Jaskier made a _very_ interested noise from right next to him. _Shit_.

Lambert just laughed, the asshole. "Geralt, I have a secret to tell you: you're _way_ hornier than I am. You'd just be hurting yourself with that one."

Damn it. Lambert wasn't actually wrong.

"Don't share 'em with Metz," he said, hoping to renegotiate. "Please."

"Eskel's going to give you more shit over them," Lambert said, sounding amused.

"Yeah, but he's—" Geralt waved a hand and nearly dropped his phone on his face— "he's _Eskel_. And Keira took advantage of me in order to run off and steal plague notes."

"Plague notes?" Jaskier asked.

Geralt turned his head to the side to look at Jaskier and made a face. "I'm not telling you that one right now, it's gross. Like, super, super gross."

"Was that the—" Lambert asked.

"Pesta, yeah," Geralt confirmed.

"Oh. Yeah, that one's not for a good high. Or a bad high,” Lambert confirmed.

“Aww, but now I’m _curious_ ,” Jaskier almost whined.

“Not _now_ ,” Geralt reiterated.

“Wanna hear about some of _my_ exploits?” Lambert said to Jaskier.

“Ooh! Yes please,” Jaskier said, peering up at the screen.

Geralt rolled his eyes but relaxed and reached for another grilled cheese (onion and mushroom, yum) as Lambert started talking. He only needed to make sure he didn’t drop his phone, and he let the conversation wash over him. Lambert’s grandstanding and Jaskier’s curious interjections gradually turned into pleasant background noise. 

There were a few other voices he missed, but this was more than enough for now.


End file.
